


An Inquisitor's Burden

by makesometime



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 13:10:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2151930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The burr of his voice sounds so good on the rare occasions he speaks her given name. Caressing the letters with a gentleness that makes her, for all her defences, a little weak at the knees. The bastard likely knows it, but she senses it’s not his will to set her off balance. Perhaps just to set the tone for their conversation. Honesty, no tricks. No witty repartee.</p>
<p>If anything it’s more dangerous than flirting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Inquisitor's Burden

**Author's Note:**

> If Blackwall isn't romanceable... well. I'm not entirely sure what I'll do with myself. Written before we know otherwise, to indulge myself and my Inquisitor rogue Tessa.

Tessa considers herself practical. Realistic. Never one to run from a fight – more likely to be the one running towards it while everyone else struggles to keep up.

Her tongue is almost as quick as her blades and damn near as dangerous, getting her into situations she doesn't really need to be in. She can talk her way out of most things, if it comes to it.

She can sense the tide of a fight turning in a split second, heightened perception allowing her to revise her approach before the enemy sees through her intentions. One on one or against a horde, she is rarely matched in strategy.

She is brave. She is fast. She is cunning.

But not with this, not with him.

Her brother used to warn her that she had horrible taste in men (while he was flirting with every girl in town, naturally). He’d poke and prod every time her eye was caught but it she always wrote it off as brotherly affection, a young man still finding his way in the world and using her as a pleasant diversion. 

She wishes he was here to joke with her now. It might make the truth of her feelings more apparent.

Her feet carry her around Skyhold without a mind as to where she’s headed. She cuts a lonely figure, she expects, wandering the ramparts on her own, but her companions are otherwise engaged with training and planning and other busywork that she’s sure she should be helping with. The air is chill against her leather armour, catching down the bare skin of her neck as her ponytail swishes in the breeze with each step.

Down below people bustle through the courtyard despite the early hour, trading words and goods with smiles that she is glad to see. It’s hard to keep your spirits up when the world is falling apart around you – to provide a safe haven against the storm gives her no small sense of satisfaction. In its way it serves as much of an effective distraction to her whirring thoughts as she hopes she used to for her brother, and she is grateful for it. Perhaps he was grateful for her too.

She reaches one of the towers looking over the gate and a snap decision leads her to make the climb up the small stone steps to the roof – what little good it will do her. She’ll get nothing more than an improved view of the surrounding lands out of the deviation to her route, as there’s nothing up there to speak of save the empty foundations for whatever war machine is eventually chosen to fill the space. Cullen keeps insisting she take part in defence planning that she has a severe shortcoming of understanding for, if he could just make the decisions for her they’d all be better off… but she’s digressing. 

She pulls herself up to stand by the battlements with one hand on the top of the parapet, catching her breath from the quick sprint up the stairs. The sight before her is starkly beautiful, trees in the middle of changing colour, a low mist hanging amongst the canopy as the sun rises slowly to burn any lingering moisture away.

“Perhaps we should train you harder if a short staircase is enough to make you breathless.”

Tessa stiffens, the voice unexpected. She hadn’t sensed another’s presence as she reached the top of the stairs and she lets out a low curse at being shown up. Especially by him. Why did it have to be him?

She turns slowly on her heel, lips pursed. His mouth is pulled up in a half-smirk, clearly pleased at having bested her, likely amused by her colourful language and Andraste knows what else. 

“I’d like you to know that I took them at quite a pace.”

Blackwall does smile now, unfolding his arms and standing upright from his recumbent position against the battlements. “Yes, I am aware. I heard.”

She gasps, can’t help it. “There’s not a chance of that, Serah. I may be many things but do not accuse me of being clumsy.” Her hands find her hips and she has no doubt she looks halfway ridiculous. “Especially when you clomp around the battlefield in that armour making all kinds of racket.”

“You know I would not dare to imply such falsehoods, Inquisitor.” He says, leaning his forearms on the wall and looking out in the direction she had just favoured. “Simply a light hearted joke between friends.”

Tessa grumbles, turning back around to join him. She'll pretend it’s in response to his words. Hopefully he'll believe that and not take it as a reaction to his terminology. Because that would be foolish.

“Friends...” She echoes, apparently choosing this moment to stop listening to her common sense. “Is that what we are?”

He frowns a little, tilting his head but not looking at her. “Are we not?”

Blackwall has been with her for a long time. The longest, almost, of all the companions that have joined her thus far. To suggest they have not built up a rapport would be foolish. She relies on his strength and presence on the battlefield to distract the enemies on her behalf. That kind of reliance builds a bond that cannot be adequately described by such a simple word, but-

“Of course.” She breathes, shaking her head. “Of course we are.”

They are friends. They are close friends. She has no doubt that if could she find her damn feet around him they would be even more than that.

“Good to know.” He says. There’s more meaning to his words than he’s letting on but for all her efforts she can’t divine it. “What brings you up here Tessa?” 

The burr of his voice sounds so good on the rare occasions he speaks her given name. Caressing the letters with a gentleness that makes her, for all her defences, a little weak at the knees. The bastard likely knows it, but she senses it’s not his will to set her off balance. Perhaps just to set the tone for their conversation. Honesty, no tricks. No witty repartee.

If anything it’s more dangerous than flirting.

“I needed to get away from myself.” She says quietly. Her eyes fall to her gloved palms and the leather that hides the source of her unwanted power, the fingers of one hand moving to trace patterns over the other.

Blackwall lets out a short huff; half darkly amused, she thinks, and half concerned. “For one so young as yourself that’s quite a burden to bear, let alone acknowledge.”

He’s brought up her age with increasing frequency these past few weeks, the times they've happened to share a private conversation. She is not so sheltered that she doesn't know why he does it, but not so confident that she can call him on it. It doesn’t stop her joking about his age in return though, she has to admit. But now is not the time for that.

“I daresay it’s not much easier with experience.” She murmurs. “I have to keep my head, and that requires being honest with myself.”

He does look at her then, a hint of satisfaction – perhaps even pride – playing over his features. “Then you’re a step ahead of most, Inquisitor.”

“Thank you...” Tessa smiles, inclining her head in acceptance of his praise. “I suppose there is little to be gained in my asking why I found you here?”

He hides it well, the haunted look some Grey Wardens wear when the path is not of their own choosing. But it remains, as constant as the sounds he’s told her he hears, as constant as the horrific dreams that she overhears when they’re set up in a camp and not sleeping in separate rooms.

“There’s a kind of peace up here that’s hard to find elsewhere.” He muses, watching the sun as it breaks over the trees for the first time. “The war hasn’t reached us yet. It will, but for now… I’ll take what I can get.”

“Remind me to keep stalling Cullen then. I don’t imagine the view would be so good around the struts of a catapult.”

The joke is weak, unnecessary, but neither of them acknowledge it. It hangs awkwardly in the air between them for a time before fading like the mist below them. Tessa’s eloquence has deserted her once more, the skin of her palms feeling the first faint throb that signals another Breach, somewhere, somewhere out there to be found. She clenches her hands into fists and presses them together, her jaw setting with resolve.

“It'll soon be time to do this all over again.” The truth of it is impossible to ignore and while the urge to complain remains, standing beside a man who is every day one step closer to his Calling puts things in perspective. “My sworn duty awaits.”

“You didn't ask for this.” He points out, voice tinged with an understanding that she thinks she will find with few others. “Rare that anyone does.”

“Rare for anyone with all of their faculties, you mean?” She retorts, catching her tongue between her teeth with a slow smile.

He returns it in kind, his response heavy in his typical dry humour. “Precisely that, Inquisitor.”

“You know, part of me thinks that I did ask.” Tessa admits, placing her forearms on the parapet and leaning her chin on top. “I mean, I don’t remember the specifics. But it doesn't sound unlike me. Always too eager to help.”

His hand catches her shoulder, heavy and welcome. “That’s not something to apologise for, girl.”

She tips her head to the side to shoot him a wry smile. “It’s got me into a heap of trouble in the past.”

“Led you here though didn't it?” He muses, the low timbre of his speech a welcome comfort. “Where you’re needed most.”

She smiles at his thumb rubbing over the front of her shoulder. She wonders if he’s aware of it. 

“Here as in the keep? Or here as in right now?”

He’s about to reply. His mouth parts a way before he thinks better of it, dropping his hand and looking away from her. Tessa knows she should drop it. She should turn and leave him for now. Choose the perfect moment in the days to come…

If only her bullheaded nature didn't flare up at the worst moments.

“Hey!” The word bursts from her almost without permission from her brain, her forehead creasing as she makes herself face him properly. She heaves his arm up so that his hand rests awkwardly back on her shoulder. “Answer me, please. Indulge me just this once.”

He smiles fondly down at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling with good humour. “Foolish, headstrong girl.”

“Oh, I can be extremely stubborn.” She replies, body thrumming with an oddly intoxicating thrill. “Don’t test me Serah.”

His fingers clench on her shoulder, then track around to cup the back of her neck. His touch is as warm as the spark of want that flashes briefly in his eyes. “Stubborn, eh? Where’s that been for the past few months? I hadn’t noticed.”

She narrows her eyes at his teasing. “You’re gonna make me do this aren't you?”

One of his shoulders lifts in a lazy imitation of disinterest. “I've got all the time in Thedas.”

Tessa whines a little as she rises up to meet him, her lips pressing to his with the force of half a season’s worth of wanting. The hand on her neck tilts her head to an angle where he can fully engage her, his teeth scraping her lower lip when she lets out a soft huff of need. Her fingers spread over the broadness of his chest, digging into the quilted material of his coat as his other arm comes around her to pull her achingly close.

She’s imagined this moment more times than she would freely admit, the press of his tongue against her own as his beard scrapes her chin, her cheeks, leaving a tender redness behind to remind her of his presence. Never was she able to get the sheer breadth of him quite right, the way he surrounds her and protects her even as he seeks to undo her.

Tessa sneaks a hand up to palm his cheek, smirking as he walks her into the support of the battlements, the stone harsh against her back. She hooks a leg loosely around his own, the heel of her boot pressing into the hard muscle of his calf. In her imagination he’s as fiercely muscled all over…

Their hunger burns bright and extinguishes quickly to be replaced by a tenderness that she was not anticipating. His bulk becomes a shield, his kisses taking on a depth of feeling that leaves her happily breathless. When they part she feels flushed and temporarily sated, the realities of her life chased away by something far more pleasant.

“You have a decision to make, Tessa.” He says, each word making his lips brush hers once more. She desires nothing more than to steal his kisses again. “You know the truth of our lives. Is this--.”

“It’s worth it.” She knows what he’s asking. Understands his reticence, even if she doesn’t share it. “Don't take this bright spot in the darkness away from me.”

He smiles down at her before pressing his lips to her forehead. “I am yours to command, Inquisitor.”

Tessa chuckles, dancing her fingers up his chest and hitching her leg higher. “I believe I have some ideas of where we could start.”


End file.
